The River Otter Wish
by Brightly Bound
Summary: While in the waters of the River Otter, Ginny makes a wish that is misinterpreted by an unlikely foe. Will she be able to save herself, or will she, once again, have to rely on the boy who'd rescued her once before? Post-OotP, AU (following canon as much as possible).
1. Prologue

**Title**: The River Otter Wish

**Words**: 1,034

**Rating**: R

**Genres**: Romance, Drama, Action/Adventure

**Characters**: Harry/Ginny, All

**Summary**: While in the waters of the River Otter, Ginny makes a wish that is misinterpreted by an unlikely foe. Will she be able to save herself, or will she, once again, have to rely on the boy who'd rescued her once before?

**Author's Note**: A twist on a classic. Enjoy and please review!

**Prologue**

Ginny didn't wait for Ron and Hermione today. She was tired of waiting; to be heard, to be seen, to be noticed and included. With a faded pink towel tucked beneath her arm, she stormed out of The Burrow and its uncomfortably warm kitchen, through the creaky garden gate, and headed towards River Otter where she could, with any luck, finally find peace.

A welcoming breeze blew back the hair sticking to the nape of her sweaty neck. It felt like a thousand degrees out, but she couldn't care less. The River beckoned her, and she smiled, the tense muscles of her jaw loosening at the thought of jumping into its cool, surging waters. She quickened her pace, feet crunching dry grass and weeds. Perhaps she would get a decent ten minutes to herself, to calm her frayed nerves…

It all started a couple of days ago when her family received word that Harry was to arrive at the Burrow sometime tomorrow morning. Her reaction to the news was quick and uninvited: she could not stop her heart from skipping a beat, palms from sweating, and hands from trembling at the thought of seeing him again. It was frustrating. She was over him, she was over him, she was _over him_… wasn't she?

Guilt stabbed her in the gut as she tried to convince herself to give up on Harry. _Why_ was she bothering with Dean Thomas? Yes, he was a nice enough bloke, definitely attractive, and _oh_, how it was getting under her brother's skin. But Dean didn't measure up to Harry. He would _never _measure up to Harry.

She rolled her eyes and sighed to herself. She was leading Dean on. He didn't deserve it. She should write him, tell him she'd been demented when he'd asked her out and she'd jumped at the chance. She shouldn't be with anyone until she was totally, completely, and wholly over Harry Bloody Potter.

Getting over him didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon, though, and neither did attracting his attention. No matter how she dressed, how many boyfriends she had, or how good she was on a broom, Harry would never see her as anything but his best mate's baby sister, as his _own _sister, probably.

"Ugh," she muttered to herself. "Could there be anything worse?"

At least she could justify calling him a friend now. Ron would just have to learn to share. Before The Department of Mysteries battle and fiasco with the troll Umbridge, they hadn't spent much time together, unless she counted the Chamber of Secrets, which she never did...

_ Maybe we'll have more to talk about now, _she thought optimistically.

_Like what, his dead godfather? _

Her stomach plunged and she shook her head, dispelling any and all thoughts of Harry and poor Sirius Black.

_Dean is a good thing, _she reminded herself firmly. _He will_ _help me get over Harry._

She scrambled over a mossy fallen tree, maneuvered carefully through sharp brambles, and reached the River Otter a quarter of an hour later, after successfully locking away the idea of being something more than just Harry's friend.

She mechanically smoothed her towel near the base of a shady cypress. This was her absolute favorite spot to relax, high enough on the riverbank to watch for otters and other wildlife without intruding, but low enough to dip her lime green painted toenails into the glimmering water.

She flicked off her sandals, pulled her wand from the pocket of her shorts, and sat unceremoniously on her towel, plunking both feet into the deep river. It was a shock of cold to her overheated feet. She wiggled her toes, grinning at the glittering varnish Tonks had given her for Christmas. She hadn't dared let Mum see it, lest she have it taken away. If it wasn't beige or pink or plain old boring, she wasn't allowed to wear it.

She felt her face heat in anger and tried to calm herself down. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she threw herself into the river without another thought.

She would have squealed if she wasn't underwater. Her head broke the streaming, light waves, and she gasped for air, laughing joyously at the freezing sting her hot skin endured.

"There's only one thing better than this," she said aloud, treading water. "_Flying_."

She did a few crawls and breaststrokes in the swiftly swelling water before turning easily onto her back and floating slowly, gently downriver. She hummed and sang loudly and a bit unpleasantly, her ears muffled by the water, and hoped no one else was around to hear and cringe over her out of tune rendition of "Magic Works" by The Weird Sisters.

With the sky bright and unblemished by a single cloud, Ginny imagined she was _up there_ instead of _down here_. Truly, she was surprised her mother and father allowed this at all… not with a war on the horizon.

She stiffened as dread pooled within her. She sank a little before dragging herself into an upright position. It was stupid, wondering when she'd get to take her broom up for a ride, worrying about her fling with Dean Thomas and her unrequited love for Harry Potter. Lives, whole families of Muggles and Wizards alike, were being destroyed. There were greater, more important things to think about.

She dug her feet into the sand and rocks, gripping them with her toes, and searched the riverbank for her towel. She spotted it about six meters down and decided she would swim a bit further before turning back.

Looking down the long and winding River Otter, Ginny said childishly, miserably, unthinkingly, "I wish I could swim away forever."

Something slimy clasped her ankle and tugged. A shriek was barely out of her mouth before it filled with water.

She kicked her legs with all her might, fighting the thing that had grabbed hold of her with little success. She was dragged to the deepest part of the river, could tell for her ears popped at the pressure. The oxygen in her lungs was scarce and would be used up in seconds; they were burning already for air.

She never imagined she would die this way…


	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: The River Otter Wish

**Words**: 3,007

**Rating**: R

**Genres**: Romance, Drama, Action/Adventure

**Characters**: Harry/Ginny, All

**Summary**: While in the waters of the River Otter, Ginny makes a wish that is misinterpreted by an unlikely foe. Will she be able to save herself, or will she, once again, have to rely on the boy who'd rescued her once before?

**Author's Note**: This plot bunny has been running amok in my head! Here's chapter 1. Enjoy! Please review! It's a form of currency here, don't you know? ;)

**Chapter 1**

_July 12__th__, 1996_

Through the slightly murky water, Ginny stared up at her attacker, nothing but a shadow, pressing her into the river bottom. A scaly, webbed hand closed around her mouth and nose and then pulled away, leaving in its place a large, filmy bubble.

No longer able to hold her breath, her vision clouded and head pounded, the rush of blood in her ears a fierce drum roll. She fought the urge with everything she had. Still, it was not enough. Her mouth opened on its own accord, greedy for air. She waited to feel water pour into her lungs…

But they filled with air. Her eyes flew open; the bubble around her face contained oxygen! How it came to be, she didn't care. She sobbed in relief, her tears the river.

Her attacker drew closer, and she gasped. A merman with shoulder length golden hair and eyes like bright citrine stones stared at her with sharp teeth bared in the semblance of a smile, one that did not seem altogether friendly.

"Your wish," he said, voice shrill and piercing, "is my command."

_Wish? All I wish is for you to leave me alone! _

The merman easily caught the slow swinging arms she aimed at him, pressed his heavy jade colored tail against her thrashing legs, and produced a roughly sharpened rock with a jerk of his unoccupied hand.

She didn't know what he was going to use it for, and she didn't _want _to know. She jerked hard again and again, trying to free herself, muscles on fire, working hard to push him off but weightless in the water.

_This can't be happening! This can't be happening!_

Why hadn't she waited for Ron and Hermione? Why hadn't she kept her wand in her pocket?

She screamed in agony, a mere echo in her ears. The merman brought his barbaric stone knife viciously down the length of her forearm. Pain seared down the left side of her body, and she watched in horror as her assailant brought her arm up to his mouth and covered her fresh wound with his thick, turquoise tongue.

The merman pulled roughly away, and his eyes met hers, glinting in anger. "You have magical blood!" he screeched in accusation.

Ginny's vision blurred as he clenched a fist over her wrist. Blood clouded the water, and she shut her eyes as her stomach churned. She thought back to the horror stories she'd heard as a little girl, of women and children being dragged from ocean shores, to become prisoners and slaves, or to their deaths if merpeople forgot they could not breathe underwater. She tried in vain to remember if magical status was ever brought up.

Would her captor kill her now because she was a witch?

Midway through her next breath, she choked on water. She opened her eyes, and with a jolt realized that the merman was gone. She scrambled, legs kicking, arms pulling.

Had she been freed?

She broke the surface of the water, coughing and gasping, and swam to the riverbank clumsily, her limbs but heavy weights. She fell on shore, taking care to keep her feet away from the water's edge but heedless of the dirt that would surely cling to every inch of her being. She was on land, the smell of the earth thick in her nostrils. It was comforting. She was safe; merpeople couldn't get her here.

She hadn't been underwater long, and she didn't know how long she lay there, but if Ron saw her like this, he was surely going to have a bloody fit. With her strength slightly regained a few minutes later, she sat up and looked down at her mildly stinging left arm.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Where the merman had slashed open her forearm was a long, very thin and very light scar, not bright pink like most recently healed cuts, but pale white, nearly the color of her skin.

Were merpeople, by some magical decree, not allowed to kidnap witches and wizards?

Her blood boiled beneath her skin.

_They shouldn't be allowed to take any human being, magical or not!_

Getting up was difficult. Her legs shook with her weight. She concentrated solely on her footsteps, left first, then right, left, then right, her vision blurring with every short stride. Before she knew it, she'd reached her spot on the riverbank and collapsed onto her towel.

The sound of heavy footsteps and Ron and Hermione's bickering brought her an immense sense of relief, and it would be the last thing she'd remember.

~* _**Day 1**_ *~

_July 13__th__, 1996_

Ginny dreamt a strange and terrible dream, one she struggled to pull herself from. She screamed. She tossed and turned. She was encased in fire and no one was helping her, _saving _her.

Panicked voices flittered through her consciousness, none of which she could decipher. She was overwhelmed with pain; she was being twisted and ripped apart. She was dissolving from the inside out.

"_Wake up_."

The voice was soft, low and desperate. She'd heard it before. She concentrated as hard as she could, even though every cell in her body was begging her to stop everything, to stop _fighting_.

"_Wake_ _up!_" said the voice again, more insistent this time. "_Please_, wake up!"

Darkness consumed her, cooling the inferno billowing within. Her heart slowed, the blood rushing in her head ebbed to a trickle…

There was an echo of a sob; she heard a muffled yell, and then clear as day—

"_Ginny!_ Don't be dead. Ginny, please wake up!"

_Oh_, she thought with a sigh of relief.

He was here to save her.

She sucked in a breath of much needed air and pulled herself up, shaking the dream—the nightmare—away. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut hard as a searing pain stabbed her right in the gut.

"Hold on there, love! Don't move."

"Bloody hell…"

"Oh, Ginny!"

She finally pried her eyes open as a pair of arms encircled her shoulders. The scent of wildflowers surrounded her, calming her frantic heart. She sighed into her mother's hair.

"Now, darling, don't overreact. We'll get this taken care of somehow," said a voice, one she identified as her father's, warm and deep and placating. Whether his soothing voice was meant for her or her mother, however, she did not know.

_**What's going on?**_

She jerked back from her mother's embrace and clawed at her throat. Hadn't she spoken aloud?

"What is it, Ginny?" Mum asked, staring at her with wet and bloodshot eyes.

It was when her mother sat back on her heels that she noticed it, and her lack of a voice no longer concerned her. The sheet covering the bottom half of her body was covered thickly in blood, but still that was not the source of her alarm: it was the glint of jade that caught her attention, and her heart, still struggling to right itself, staggered.

With shaking fingers, Ginny slowly drew the sheet away from her body, knowing what she would uncover, but hoping with all her might that she was whole and…

…_Not cursed with a tail for legs._

She let out a silent groan and turned away from the shocking sight now seared in her brain: a flipper where her feet should be, a tail covered in bright scales stretching to just above her bandaged waistline, and fins sprouting from her hips.

"I'll send Dumbledore an owl."

"Thank you, Remus," her mother said.

Noticing for the first time that she was in the living room and that it was decidedly a lot smaller than normal, what with the dozen or so people crowding around her, Ginny bowed her head to shield herself from everyone's unabashed study. Through thick strands of her hair, Ginny watched Hestia Jones, a part-time Healer when she wasn't on Order business, empty a large bag of clinking phials at the sideboard. Tonks was following Remus out of the room after throwing a relieved smile her way. Fred and George were at the fireplace, looking pale but bright-eyed, as if they'd come up with some brilliant business venture.

She grimaced when she noticed Bill on her father's favorite armchair, and Fleur perched in his lap, a tiny tear shining at the tip of her perfectly quivering chin.

_Blubbering idiot._ _It's not like she's the one that's been cursed! _

"I've got a few books upstairs that mention merpeople and their lore," Hermione said tentatively, getting everyone's attention. "There has to be something in them to help you, Ginny."

Ginny tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and tried to hide her apprehension enough to smile at Hermione with encouragement. She'd gotten Ron and Harry out of so many precarious situations; she was bound to get her out of this one.

_**I certainly hope so.**_

"Are you two coming? I could use a hand," Hermione said, glancing pointedly over Ginny's shoulder.

She froze, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.

_He can't be here._ _He can't see me like this._

She turned, ignoring the pang of pain at her middle. Harry stepped out of the shadowy corner behind her, where the dawn light had yet to reach. He met her eyes and smiled awkwardly at her.

It was the one and only time she could recall _not _being ecstatic to be in his general vicinity.

He looked tired. His hair was sticking up in a million different directions, and he had several blood stains on his clothes. She stared at the small rust red handprint on his shoulder. He caught her line of sight and shrugged. "It was nothing, really—" he started as she glanced down at her hands, scarlet red and confirming her suspicions.

_Oh, no._

"Harry, you were a tremendous help," her father said at once, standing up to shake his hand.

Her mother took a moment to get up, and when she did, she embraced Harry hard. "You were wonderful." She pulled away from him and patted his cheek. "Go get cleaned up. Just leave your clothes in the hamper. I'll take care of it after breakfast."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said gratefully. He turned to Ginny. "I'm glad you're…err… okay."

Stunned, she watched him and Ron exit the room with Hermione before promptly bursting into tears.

She spent the next couple of hours being poked and prodded by Hestia, who quickly ran out of tests to run, unsuccessful tricks for removing cursed appendages and ways to return Ginny's voice. Every charm backfired. Every potion failed. Hestia looked more and more putout as the morning progressed. She didn't stay long after her fruitless attempts- there was nothing more that could be done. Before leaving, she made sure Ginny swallowed her weight in blood replenishing, pepper-up and pain relief potions, and promised to be back that night or the next morning with something, _anything _that might help.

Weary and aching all over, Ginny dozed in a stream of morning sunlight, stirring each time her mother or father came in to check on her. A short commotion in the kitchen woke her some time before noon, and the smell of fried food lingering in the air made her stomach turn violently.

Ron burst through the doorway, a sausage in one hand and a letter in the other. Hermione followed shortly behind looking annoyed, two books under each arm and her eye peculiarly purple, as if she'd been punched. She held the door open for Harry, who shuffled in blindly, carrying a mound of very heavy tomes that teetered past the top of his head.

"Ron! You could help!" Hermione scolded.

Ron sheepishly took half of Harry's burden and dropped it on the floor by Hermione as she took a seat in the armchair. "Sorry, mate."

Harry glanced over at her with an exasperated grin and caught her watching him. His smile fell. She hastily looked away from the sinewy muscles of his forearms and hoped her cheeks weren't a bright cherry red. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Harry swiftly set the stack of books down on the coffee table before her and rubbed his arms, inspecting them as if there was something wrong with them.

She let out a sigh of relief. _Thank god you're clueless, Harry Potter._

__Ron strode over to her and shoved a sheet of parchment unceremoniously in her face. She glared up at him and snatched it from his hands. He looked positively gleeful.

"You owe me a galleon!"

"Ron!"

"What?" Ron said. "She _started_ the bet! She said I wouldn't get more than five OWLs!"

"You really are incorrigible, aren't you?" Hermione huffed, producing a thin notepad from inside a book. "Now isn't the time! Your sister's been _cursed_."

Ron plucked his results from Ginny's hands and stuffed them into his pocket. "She'll be fine, Hermione," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You'll find a way to get her out of this by nightfall. You're great at researching and stuff."

Ginny rolled her eyes. The grin that adorned Hermione's face at the compliment Ron paid her was nearly as hopeless as his tact.

Hermione reached into her hair and removed a pencil from within it, reminding Ginny remarkably of Luna Lovegood. She turned to her and said, "I've come up with some yes or no questions that might aid us in recovering your legs."

Ginny nodded her approval and propped herself higher onto her pillows. Before Hermione could begin, however, Harry asked abruptly, "You're sure it wasn't Voldemort?"

He would not meet her gaze directly. His hands were fists at his sides, and his jaw was tense. It suddenly dawned on her that he might blame himself for what had happened to her; his selflessness did make him exceptionally thick sometimes. This was not about Riddle, or by extension, Harry. And she would prove it to him a hundred times over if it brought him even some peace.

He looked down at his right arm. "I'm asking because…I noticed…"

She turned carefully onto her side and propped herself up with her right elbow. With a steadying breath, she extended her left arm to him. This was her only way to show him that, for once, he was not at fault for her misfortune.

He came to kneel on the floor in front of her and desperately took hold of her wrist, his fingertips pressing gently into her flesh and thumb swiping softly over her pulse point. She could do nothing to stop the unwelcome reaction of goose bumps flaring up along her arm and heat flooding her cheeks; it was strange being this close to him, being _touched _by him.

"Harry, what—"

"This is my fault. This has to be some sort of trick of his—some way to get to me." With frenzied fingers, Harry started to unwrap the bandaging around her arm.

"Harry, Ginny just about told Mum and Dad it was a merman," Ron said, sounding alarmed. "Leave it alone."

"I can't."

Ron sat up, upset. Ginny threw a look at him and turned back to Harry. She covered his hand with her own, squeezing it and stopping him from pulling the wrapping off completely. She ducked her head to meet his troubled gaze.

_**It wasn't him.**_

"You're sure?" he said, his eyes dropping to read her lips.

Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips and took in a trembling breath. _**Yes.**_

__She'd seen her scar as Hestia did the wrappings earlier. It was nearly identical to the one Harry had gotten the night Riddle returned, except for one thing…

She undid the last strip and pressed her left arm against his right for comparison. Their scars were both faded and flesh toned, but at the very tip of hers, an emerald green scale was protruding from beneath her skin. A rivulet of blood ran from it, down her hand and dripped to the end of her thumb.

He sat in silence for a moment, staring at her. He looked… defeated.

"Harry... for once, this has nothing to do with you." Hermione was behind him and watching them with a curious look on her face. "Come on. I'll rewrap it. Start reading through one of the books Dumbledore sent us. It's the best way to help."

"Come on, mate," Ron said from a few steps away.

Hermione grabbed a first aid kit Hestia had left on the sideboard after Harry settled into her vacated armchair with a thick leather bound book. She started to clean the wound, flinching when Ginny winced at the burning sensation at her wrist. "Sorry," she said. She was quiet for a moment then whispered to her, "You should have seen him this morning."

Ginny leaned closer, eager to know what had transpired while she had been unconscious. "He got to you so first. Your mum put him in Fred and George's old room for the night, and it's so close to the ground floor…"

She took a quick study of Harry over Hermione's wild curls. He was staring down at the book in his hands, but his eyes were not moving behind the lenses of his glasses.

"He was great with you," Hermione continued, cutting a long piece of gauze and gathering cotton plasters. "Amazing, even."

A mysterious smile lit her face, startling Ginny.

_**What's that supposed to mean?**_

As Hermione worked on wrapping her arm in new bandaging, she said, "He was talking to you the whole time, trying to get you out of the fit you went into. It was quite frightening, actually. We all thought you were…" Her frustration at not being heard left her in one fell swoop. Hermione cleared her throat. "Sorry, it's just… there was blood everywhere, and you weren't breathing for a bit, and…"

Ginny swung her uninjured arm around Hermione's shoulders and hugged her.

Hermione pulled away after a few moments, smiling tearfully. "We'll get you out of this before long. I just know it."


	3. Chapter 2

**Title**: The River Otter Wish

**Words**: 3,481

**Rating**: R

**Genres**: Romance, Drama, Action/Adventure

**Characters**: Harry/Ginny, All

**Summary**: While in the waters of the River Otter, Ginny makes a wish that is misinterpreted by an unlikely foe. Will she be able to save herself, or will she, once again, have to rely on the boy who'd rescued her once before?

**Author's Note**: Hello, all! I hope you're doing well! Just wanted to clarify, so there isn't much confusion, Ginny's lost her voice due to the curse she's under, and all of her thoughts are, rightly, italicized. If she tries to speak, however, she is mouthing words that, if one concentrates, could be read from her very lips;, when this happens, it will be italicized _and _bolded. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

~* _**Day 2**_ *~

_July 14__th__, 1996_

After more than twenty four hours with a tail and no way of communicating with anyone besides a head shake and flailing hand gestures, Ginny was about ready to take a wand and point it straight at her head.

She was excellently accommodated, but left mostly mortified. When her scales started to flake that morning, the living room couch was swiftly transfigured into an unusually long bathtub and charmed to keep the water within it warm. Her mother, after fruitless attempts at getting her to eat any of her favorite foods yesterday, had a stroke of brilliance and had Mr. Weasley run to town and buy several pounds of frozen shrimp; everyone watched as Ginny tipped an entire bowl of them into her mouth. But the most terrible humiliation came that night, when her eldest brother declared that the pond outside had been deepened and cleaned out for her use.

"It'll be great for you, Ginny," Bill said as he tucked his arms under hers. "You can stretch your…err…tail. Swim around. You'll love it."

"Right," Ron said. "Then you'll be out of our hair." She glared daggers at him. "Oh, come on! I'm only joking!"

"Ron," Bill said with a sigh of impatience. "Could you stop being an arse and help?"

As Ron reached down to get a hold of her tail, Ginny flicked her fin and doused him in a wave of water. He spluttered at her, red-faced. "What the f—?!"

"_What _is going _on _here?" Mum appeared in the doorway a second later, hands on her hips. "Dinner is getting cold!"

Ron pointed furiously at Ginny. "Look at what she did to me!"

"Go upstairs and dry off," she said after a short glance at him. "And _you_," she turned to Ginny. "That's _enough_. I know you're unhappy, stuck that way, but we have to make the best of it until we can find a way to get you back to normal." She followed Ron out of the living room, muttering, "And you wonder why I still treat you like a child…"

Ginny crossed her arms, annoyed, and glowered up at Bill as he straightened up behind her. _If he defends that git, he's going to get the same!_

He was smiling at her roguishly. "He deserved it... but I suppose this could've all been avoided if I'd done _this_."

He tapped his wand on the tub and the water within it vanished, and she was left warm and dry. She sighed and smiled at him in thanks. She was quite tired of being wet.

The kitchen door swung open again, and Harry came through with Hermione, rolling up his sleeves.

"Hey," he said simply.

Her smile disappeared. _Oh, no._

She started to shake her head at Bill in horror, but he only smirked at her.

"Did Mum send you in to help?" he asked Harry, taking a step back from her as she reached up to wring his neck.

"Yeah, where do you need me?"

Before she could stop either of them, Bill grabbed her outstretched arms and tugged her unceremoniously out of the tub to sit on its edge. Then he was reaching under her arms again, and Harry was carefully curling his hands under the bend of her tail, sending an unwelcome thrill up her spine.

Hermione stood at the door, holding it open. Ginny stared at her, hoping she could convey how uncomfortable she was in this situation, hoping Hermione would intervene in some way, _any_ way. But she turned her head firmly away and would not meet her eye.

Ginny's stomach dropped as Bill and Harry hoisted her from the tub, though the reaction was due mostly to the deep frown she caught on Hermione's face. They settled her carefully into a wheelchair by the dining table before long, where her father stood, beaming.

"I've customized it for you," he said, eyes lit with excitement. "I took a bucket and split it in half so that your tail has a place to rest… we don't want your fin dragging under the wheels…"

He continued on about the modifications and charms he'd placed on the wheelchair St. Mungo's had provided him several months previous. She drowned him out as she was wheeled to her place at the table.

Harry took the seat beside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning over to speak quietly into her ear as to not interrupt her father, his breath warm on her neck.

"…must be careful with the spokes… they're a bit temperamental when you want them to climb or descend more than four stairs at a time."

She shrugged and tried to fix her features to cool indifference though she felt nothing but embarrassment and doom. If they hadn't found a counter curse yet, how much longer was she going to be bound in this form, carried from room to room, having to rely on others for every single thing?

_At least Harry's paying attention to me, _she thought sardonically. _It only takes turning into a bloody fish…_

"Ginny?"

She straightened up and met Harry's eyes, deep emerald pools full of concern. She threw him the most placating smile she could muster, and hoped it wasn't so uneasy that he'd see right through her. Instead of receiving a smile in return however, Harry's expression quickly altered to that of bewilderment. He looked down, and she followed his line of sight to find her hand resting atop his on the arm of her chair.

She inhaled sharply as he turned his hand over to cup hers and squeeze it gently.

_He's just being nice, _she told herself, gazing down at their linked hands and wrestling down the hope and heat that rose within her. _He's nice to everyone._

Hermione took a seat opposite of her, and Ginny pulled her hand quickly out of Harry's, missing its warmth instantly. Ron, when he finally came stomping his way down the stairs, grumbling but dry, came to sit across from her.

_He's nice to everyone. He's nice to everyone. He's nice to everyone. _She would repeat it a thousand times, over and over again in her head if it meant she'd keep her cool around him. _Does he finally like me? No. No! He's nice to everyone. He's nice to everyone._

"Is there something wrong with the food? Ginny? Hermione?"

She shook herself from her internal struggle to find her family, save for Ron, who continued to shovel food down his throat, staring.

Hermione was fidgeting in her seat under so many probing eyes.

"I found something today," she admitted quietly. "It might lead us to finding the counter-curse for Ginny."

Ginny's heart leapt to her throat.

"Is that right?" Mr. Weasley said with a hopeful grin from his position at the head of the table.

Hermione nodded and reached into her pocket. "There is a clause that was added to the International Statue of Wizarding Secrecy in 1750. Clause 73. It's what most historians say started The Water War."

"The Water War?" Ron asked through a mouth full of food. "I don't remember learning about that."

"That's because it's not in the curriculum until the middle of our 6th year. The Water War was a little known war that lasted only a few months, between merpeople and wizards after the clause was enacted. Clause 73 states that 'should any creature,' in this case, merpeople, 'cause harm to, or draw the notice of, the Muggle community, that nation's wizarding governing body will be subject to discipline by the International Confederation of Wizards.'

"Obviously, merpeople are not exactly the best at concealing themselves. They have been spotted by fishermen for centuries, and they've been abducting Muggles, mostly women and children, for ages. So, when the law was passed… they were forced to turn to kidnapping only witches and wizards."

"Zat eez terrible!" Fleur said.

_Yes, thank you, Madame Obvious, _Ginny thought with a roll of her eyes.

"I remember now…" Bill said. "Professor Binns mentioned that they were taking so many magical children that another law had to be passed. I think it was the Decree for the Survival of Magical Brethren."

"The Ministry was afraid that the merpeople could drive us to extinction," Hermione confirmed, "and that resulting law forbids any creature from harming magic folk."

"Then why did this happen to Ginny?" Harry asked with furrowed brows.

"Because it's written into the peace treaty," Hermione said, finally meeting Ginny's eyes. "The Water War of 1751 lasted from March to June. In that short amount of time, seventy six witches and wizards of all ages were reportedly cursed as merpeople, and hundreds of Muggles were taken brazenly from ocean shores. Merpeople were fed up. Taking prisoners is, to this day, one of their barbaric traditions, and it would be 'culturally insensitive' for the Ministry to suppress them."

The room went so quiet, she was sure her eardrums would explode from the silence. Hermione handed her a piece of paper that she had been unfolding, and Ginny took it with shaking hands.

"After nearly a month of negotiating, merpeople were allowed to take whoever they desired so long as said person is by themselves, and that the act is not witnessed by a Muggle. However, witches and wizards were to be given extra 'privileges'."

"This is ridiculous!" Mum said hysterically. "This is a 'privilege'?"

"Muggles are accidentally killed or taken prisoner. They haven't a choice. Magical folk, though…" Hermione nodded to the paper Ginny held. "If they can find a counter-curse, then they will return to their normal state. Only eight of the original seventy six cursed found a cure, and all within the first day."

Ginny looked down at the lined paper, dread flooding her every nerve.

_12 disappearances._

_8 cured- Dave Goops, age 51. Maggie Fisher, age 48. Forest Dooley, age 33. George Bell, age 21. Flynn Brown, age 20. Yves Thump, age 19. Armand Graves, age 17. Jane E., age 15._

_56 perished- 7 days later._

"What is it? Ginny? You're white as a sheet…" Mum said through the thick silence.

She looked up to find every eye upon her. She felt like she was going to be sick. The room was suddenly too hot. Too small. She needed air. Her hands went to the wheels of her chair, but they were already moving on their own accord, as if the chair knew she wanted to flee.

"What is it?" her mother asked again in alarm. "Hermione, what's going on?"

"He tested your blood, didn't he?" Hermione said.

Ginny stopped at the doorway to the garden.

"That cut on your arm. That's how he did it, isn't it? He found out that you're a witch, then he cut you loose after placing a curse on you."

"I still don't—" Mum said.

"We have less than five days to find a counter-curse…" Hermione said in a whisper, "…or she'll die."

The last thing Ginny heard before slamming the door shut behind her was her mother letting out an earsplitting wail.

~* _**Day 3**_ *~

_July 15__th__, 1996_

She hardly got a moment of sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, her heart thudded hard in her chest as if reminding her of her mortality, and the words she'd read of her soon-to-be fate burned the backs of her eyelids…

_Perished… perished… perished._

_I have four days. Four days to live, _she thought as she blearily watched storm clouds roll in over the hills of the orchard, barely lit in the early morning light.

_One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._

Her family rotated in watching over her. She'd wanted to be alone, to cry and breathe and exist unaccompanied by a single soul. But every few hours, without fail, she would feel a hand in her hair or a kiss on her cheek, hear the creak of several floorboards, and the opening and closing of the kitchen door. They were wonderful, and she loved them dearly, but their constant, miserable gaze from the porch bench was too much.

She inhaled through her nose as the ground opened up to receive the quick start of a heavy rainstorm. Would this be the last time she'd experience such a glorious downpour?

_Four days left._

She wriggled to the edge of her seat, grabbed the column by the banister, and slid, swiftly but a little unsteadily, out of her wheelchair and onto the top step of the stoop. She stretched out her tail, leaned back onto her elbows, and let the rainwater pelt her dry scales.

"I could've helped you, you know?" Ron said tiredly from the other side of the porch.

_**I know, Ron, **_she said, closing her eyes with a sigh.

The door to the kitchen opened with a soft scraping sound. It gave a short and predictable click half a second before shutting completely.

"Hey, Ha-Harry," Ron said through a yawn.

She shut her eyes tighter as they began to burn. Her head felt hot, like steam would start pouring out of her ears, and a lump rose in her throat.

"Your mum needs you inside," Harry said.

"All right," Ron said.

_Scrape. Click. Bang._

She was alone with Harry Potter.

"I brought you breakfast."

Her stomach grumbled, but she kept absolutely still. _Maybe he'll go away if I don't respond. _The floorboards gave slightly beside her, and she peeked out at him through her lashes to find him toeing off his socks and kicking them aside, all the while balancing two ceramic bowls and a glass of ice cold water.

She turned slightly towards him as he sat down beside her and watched as he stuck his bare feet out into the heavy rain. Her stomach did an odd flip in her abdomen. There was something strangely intimate about seeing his unclothed feet stretched out beside her.

Harry handed her a bowl of perfectly seared scallops and set the glass of water down between the two of them, then dug into his bowl of cereal with relish. She watched him, unabashed, until he caught her gaze. She looked away hastily.

A moment later he said, "You have to be hungry. You didn't have dinner last night." Her stomach rumbled traitorously. "See?"

She looked up to find his face tilted towards her, worry lacing every muscle along his jaw. "Try it at least? I'm not as good a cook as your mum, but I'm not bad."

Before she could stop it, her eyes were swimming in tears.

_Not again, _she thought, desperately trying to quell the raging emotions within her.

"Bugger," Harry said in alarm, sloshing milk down his front as he hurriedly set his bowl down. "_Bugger_. Ginny, what did I say? Whatever it was, I'm sorry."

A mute sob escaped her. She was sure her head was going to explode, she'd been crying so much as of late. She _hated _unraveling into such a girl in front of him- she knew how much he detested hosepipes. But Harry was sitting beside her, _willingly_, and paying attention to her… He'd even _cooked_ for her, and she was just days away from death…

"I- please stop crying. Just- look, you don't have to eat it if you don't want."

She choked out a laugh and wiped at her cheeks. Pointedly, she took a whole scallop into her mouth and chewed it as gracelessly as she dared.

A look of relief flooded his features, and he turned back to his breakfast with a shake of his head. He stirred his cornflakes and milk and said, "Your mum came up with a plan of sorts; she's meeting with Hestia at St. Mungo's to go through any medical records they can find that may pertain to your… circumstance. Hopefully something helpful will pop up."

It was a shot in the dark, but it was better than nothing. A heavy sigh slipped through her lips as she stared down at her bowl.

"It'll be okay," Harry said quietly.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach over to comfort her, but he must've thought better of it and withdrew his hand.

"If it makes you feel any better…" he trailed off and she looked up at him. He seemed very uncomfortable. "I-I really shouldn't. Never mind, it's stupid."

He started to get up to leave, but she caught his arm. He met her eyes and something within their depths had him falling back to sit beside her. In one deep breath he told her about the prophecy and how he'd heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office…

"The papers got it right for once…"

She froze. Why was he telling her this? This didn't make her feel better at all! If he was implying that he might die… that they were in the same boat…

She smacked him hard on the arm.

"Ow!" he said, though he looked amused. "What was that for?"

_**You know what that was for, Harry!**_

"I thought it might help," he said, shrugging casually. "I'd want to know if someone was going through something even remotely similar…"

She wished more than ever that she could talk to him. She'd had years to get over her shyness towards him, and now that she wanted- _needed_- to tell him how grateful she was that he was sitting here with her, talking to her, trying to lift her spirits, how much she cared for him… loved him…

She rested her hand on his arm, gently this time, and hoped he could read her…

The back door opened again. She looked up to see Hermione there, gazing at the two of them with a smile.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said with a suggestive lilt.

Harry, who hadn't realized they'd had an audience, jerked away from Ginny, startled.

Ginny shook her head in response, conveniently hiding her flaming cheeks in a wave of bright red hair. She'd always wondered what it would be like to have an older sister, and with stunning clarity, she realized that she'd probably be this embarrassed, _all the time_.

"No," Harry said, glancing at Hermione in confusion. "You aren't." He turned to Ginny. "I'll be right back."

Hermione took Harry's seat, a pleased smirk firmly fixed on her face. "You two looked cozy." She shoved Hermione with her shoulder, and she laughed. "All right, all right. Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

_**You're spending too much time with Ron.**_

"I must be spending too much time around Ron," Hermione said.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

_**That's what I just said.**_

"We're off as soon as Remus and Tonks arrive," she said, looking down at her hands and wringing them nervously. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you, Ginny. I feel terrible about all this. If Ron and I hadn't been arguing, we would've been with you at the River. This might've never happened—"

Again, Ginny rolled her eyes, but this time, she put her hand over Hermione's mouth to quiet her.

_**Shut-up.**_

Hermione pulled Ginny's hand away and huffed sarcastically, "Fine, but it's going to be awfully quiet around here if you start ordering all of us to stop talking."

The screen door behind them slammed shut as Harry, accompanied by Remus Lupin, stepped onto the porch, simultaneously masking a loud _crack _of apparition.

Nymphadora Tonks was at the garden gate, her mousy brown hair tied back in a plait and streaked with violet highlights.

"Wotcher!" she said in greeting. Her sparkling eyes dimmed slightly upon meeting Remus'. "'Ello, Remus."

Ginny found it very peculiar that the color in Tonks' hair faded as she acknowledged Remus' presence…

"I didn't know you'd be here," Remus said quietly.

Suddenly feeling like she was intruding on the two of them, Ginny took Hermione's hand and squeezed it to get her attention, then jerked her head slightly towards the kitchen.

"Harry, could you help me with Ginny?" Hermione said, standing up briskly.

"Yeah," he said hastily. He looked as uncomfortable as Ginny felt.

"Molly requested me," Tonks responded shortly, coming up the path slowly, the pelting rain the least of her concerns.

"Wrap your arms around my neck," Harry said, snapping Ginny out of the exchange between the two Order members.

Blushing, Ginny did as she was told. Harry wrapped an arm beneath her tail, the other around her waist, and lifted her smoothly into her wheelchair. Hermione pushed her into the kitchen, and Harry followed suit, closing the door firmly behind them.

"That was awkward," Harry said, sounding relieved to be inside.

Ginny noticed her mum at the kitchen window, peering out at Remus and Tonks.

"Never you mind," Mum said gently, pulling herself away from the window. "Ron, Hermione, ready?"

"Yeah," Ron said after gulping down a glass of orange juice. "But what did I miss?"

.

.

.

.

**A/N**: Please review! I'd really love some feedback! Also, the next chapter should be up soon!


	4. Chapter 3

**Title**: The River Otter Wish

**Words**: 3,725

**Rating**: R

**Genres**: Romance, Drama, Action/Adventure

**Characters**: Harry/Ginny, All

**Summary**: While in the waters of the River Otter, Ginny makes a wish that is misinterpreted by an unlikely foe. Will she be able to save herself, or will she, once again, have to rely on the boy who'd rescued her once before?

**Author's Note**: Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

~* _**Day 3**_ *~

_July 15__th__, 1996_

Ginny stared at her reflection within the full-length mirror in her bedroom, feeling uncomfortable. The top half of her only two-piece swimming costume was tight across her chest and exposed her navel; the last time she remembered wearing it was on her family outing to Egypt, back when it actually _covered _her.

_I look ridiculous, _she thought to herself, crossing her arms self-consciously.

"You look ace, Ginny," Tonks said in encouragement. She must've sensed Ginny need some. "Very mystical, actually."

Ginny glared and pointed at her discarded shirt.

"Oh, come on," Tonks said, throwing her the tank top. Ginny quickly tugged it on. "I think you look great. I'm sure Harry will, too."

Ginny froze, momentarily stunned by the words that had just left Tonks' mouth.

Tonks laughed. "_Relax_, I'm only joking. I know you don't like him anymore," she said with a wink.

Ginny was nearly sick to her stomach as Tonks levitated her down that stairs and through the kitchen in her trusty wheelchair, wishing she could back out of the jaunt to the garden pond. She did not care to know how Tonks found out about the feelings she still harbored for Harry; Hermione had promised, after all, that she'd never say a word to anyone about her efforts to get him to notice her, and Ginny had the utmost faith that she wouldn't say a word to anyone.

Maybe she was just that transparent.

_Shite._

Harry and Remus were sitting at the dining table and speaking quietly over an ancient-looking book when she and Tonks approached. After the coinciding arrival and tense conversation between the two Order members, Ginny watched the interaction between Tonks and Remus assiduously.

Tonks, who'd decided to wear a very strange one-piece swim costume with abstract cut-outs, stood clearly away from Ginny's wheelchair, so that Remus had a very good look at her. His eyes went wide and his jaw slackened.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" Tonks said with a devilish grin. "You'll be missing out."

"I-I'm all right," Remus said, pressing his lips together firmly. "Harry, you should go. I'll keep on with the research. There are still five or so books that we haven't even opened yet."

"Maybe another time?" Harry said, looking between the two of them.

But it was as if he hadn't said a word. Tonks and Remus were staring at each other, and the heat within the room was rising and steadily becoming unbearable.

"But I'll… I'll take you out, yeah?" Harry said, turning to Ginny and grimacing.

She nodded frantically to him.

Tension eased from her shoulders as a cool breeze lifted the hair off the nape of her neck. It was sprinkling softly now, but the grey above was light, and she could even see rough patches of powder blue sky through the thinning clouds.

She sighed contently as they reached the edge of the pond.

"Do you need any help getting in?" Harry asked her.

She started going through the motions of a plan she had yet to finish forming. She nodded in his general direction, sucked in a deep breath for courage, then tugged her top up and over her head. She straightened her back, offering him a view she hoped he wouldn't refuse, and glanced up at him, biting the inside of her cheek in uncertainty.

His eyes were large and intense and darker than she'd ever seen them as they roved over her face, down her neck, over her shoulders and collarbones… He took a step closer to her and bent over slightly to pick her up. Her heart slammed hard against her ribcage as she wrapped her arms around his neck, something she knew she would never tire of doing…

Harry took two steps into the pond and paused. Just as she thought he was going to place her down gently at the water's edge, he continued in, submerging himself, fully dressed, until the water was at his chin.

Grinning, she shook her head at him, astounded with his sheer nerve.

"What?" Harry said, his arms settling at her waist. He was smiling, too.

The overwhelming urge to kiss him was quicker than a snitch, and she found it extremely difficult to control the unexpected impulse. Harry did not help matters by reaching up and tucking a wisp of hair out of her face and behind her ear.

"There," he said softly, "that's better."

Their faces were very close, noses almost grazing. Was he leaning in?

She inhaled sharply and…

_BAM!_

Their foreheads slammed together, and Harry quickly pulled away, swearing. The mood was lost, and Ginny was left gasping for air and clutching her sore head.

They looked over towards the source of the noise to find Tonks storming out of The Burrow and towards the pond. It was a surprise that the back door was still attached to its frame.

"Are you all right?" he said, turning back to her.

She nodded, still rubbing her forehead.

"I should go."

The regret in his voice was the only thing that led her to loosen her grip on his shoulders.

Tonks passed Harry, water pouring profusely out of his clothes, without a glance and paced the length of the pond for the next hour, silently and a little tearfully. Ginny remained very still, especially when she started to blast gnomes out of the garden and several yards over the hedges; she really didn't want to be on the receiving end of the Auror's wand.

When Tonks finally calmed down, she joined Ginny in the cool water, muttered, "_Men!_" quite darkly, and started to swim an expert crawl stroke. Ginny lazily swam after her, her contemplations very light as she thought of Harry.

They'd been so _close_. She turned onto her back and floated peacefully in place, the sun's light filtered by light rain clouds and warming her face. She played the scene, had they not been interrupted, in her mind's eye, again and again: Harry, pressing his soft lips against hers, running his rough hands up her back and into her hair, and she, holding him in place, kissing him hard, finally, _finally_ whole….

A muffled yell pulled her out of her reverie sometime later. Ginny shook the water out of her ears and looked up to find Ron and Hermione at the water's edge, back from their trip to St. Mungo's.

_That was quick._

Hermione must've read her mind. "Hestia had everything ready for us when we got there."

"We found something that might make you right again," Ron supplied, looking oddly amused.

He helped her out of the pond, and Tonks departed shortly after helping Ginny dry and dress. She was barely settled at the dining table, across from Harry and a rather somber Remus, when Hermione blurted, unable to contain herself, "The original 8 that were cured of the same curse you're under, thankfully, all went to St. Mungo's. And they all had one thing in common, Ginny—"

"They were married," Ron cut in, looking over his teacup at her with a laugh etched upon his face.

Ginny was at the end of her seat, ready for good news, but fell back into it, stumped.

_**Married?**_

She pulled her teacup towards herself with shaking hands and held it tightly, trying desperately to warm her cold fingers, hoping the dread that swiftly rose within her would dissolve as she took a long drink.

"We also pulled charts on anyone who'd been cursed by merpeople _after_ 1751. There were thirteen other reported cases. Ten of them were cured, and they were either married, as well, or had a _significant other_," Hermione said merrily.

"So, we stopped by Dean Thomas' house before coming back," Mum said casually.

There was a _clank_ of silverware against ceramic as Ginny choked on her tea.

"Dean Thomas?" Harry said. "What's he got to do with any of this?"

"He's her boyfriend, isn't he?" Mum said, looking sternly at Ginny. "Really, darling, you could have told me."

Ginny felt very hot all of a sudden, and it had nothing to do with the steaming tea she'd just sucked into her lungs.

"He can get you out of the curse," Hermione said, smiling at her reassuringly. "He'll be over soon. We told him you're really, really ill, and that you wanted to see him one last time."

"His mother was very understanding when we explained that you were 'no longer contagious'. We've got it all worked out," her mother said matter-of-factly. "We'll wrap you up in a blanket, so he doesn't see your tail, and then all you have to do is get him to kiss you."

Upon seeing the look of absolute alarm on her face, Hermione said with firm persistence, "All the files mentioned that after being kissed by their partner, they had regained their legs mere hours later. I think this is the only way."

While Ginny had all the faith in the world that Hermione _was_ right, she was just as certain that she was going to be kissing the wrong bloke. But there was no way to explain this, and a half hour later, Ginny found herself tucked into a large duvet, sweating a little and her stomach in knots as the fire in the kitchen _whooshed_ to life.

She tried to keep her features fixed to that of cool indifference, but by the time the door swung open to reveal Dean, taller than when she'd left him with a thorough snog on the Hogwarts Express mere weeks ago, she was sure she read nothing but apprehension.

"Hey," he said softly.

She sighed and smiled at him. She'd forgotten how sweet he sounded, and how light his brown eyes were… like pure clover honey.

Her anxiety melted away.

Maybe he _was_ the right one.

_**Dean.**_

__He was at her side one step later, and kneeling down beside her. "Hey," he said again, his hand curling around the back of her neck. "You lost your voice."

She nodded, biting her lip as his thumb caressed her jawline.

"You're burning up, too."

The concern in his voice was almost too much. She wanted to rip off the duvet and show him what had happened to her, to see if his eyes would still gaze tenderly into hers like they were now.

_**Dean.**_

She breathed his name again, this time tilting her head back just so. He loved when she so wantonly offered herself to him.

He was _easy_.

His lips covered hers without another encouragement. She shut her eyes tightly… and immediately knew why she'd thought he could've been the one to break her from the curse: he was a _fantastic_ kisser.

But that was it.

She pulled away hastily, breathlessly, a couple of seconds later.

She'd felt absolutely nothing.

"Ginny?" he said. "Ginny, are you okay?"

She feigned faintness, feeling awful at the terrified look on Dean's face as he hurried out of the room. He did not return. Instead, her mother and Hermione quickly entered, their faces so hopeful that she almost laughed.

"Did the two of you kiss?" Hermione asked.

She nodded.

"And?" Mum said.

She scoffed and threw off the duvet. Mum and Hermione looked down at her tail, and then at each other.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, deflated. "I was so sure…"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "You knew this wasn't going to work, didn't you?"

Ginny covered herself back up, in case Dean poked his head in to check on her, and held her thumb and index finger up and apart by a centimeter.

"Oh, you!" Mum huffed. "I'll go get rid of him."

Her mother hurried out of the room, and Ginny turned back to Hermione, who had her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Maybe he's just not the one," Hermione said slowly. "It would explain why there were still some witches and wizards who'd been cursed _and_ married and didn't turn back into their proper human forms…"

Ginny slouched back into the worn couch cushions, exhaling in relief, thankful that the anticipation she'd felt was no longer wringing her insides.

Perhaps she should break up with Dean now, before succumbing to the dark curse she was under. For a brief moment she wondered if he'd be anything like Cho Chang had been after Cedric Diggory's death. She snorted silently to herself. She doubted he'd miss her for more than a month at most, and he would surely move on entirely before the end of the year. Still, it was better to free him from any guilt he may (or may not) feel in the future- she owed him _that_ much.

Just as she was contemplating getting Hermione's attention so that she could fetch Dean before he left, she caught something her friend was muttering to herself that made her freeze.

"…people so often settle," Hermione murmured to no one in particular. "Especially back then… marrying for love was rare."

Her eyes were lit up, as if she had just come up with the solution to a very difficult puzzle. Ginny gazed up at her mutely, knowing deep within herself that following her Hermione's train of thought was going to lead her somewhere she wasn't sure she was ready to go just yet.

"Up until the early 1900s, finding someone, falling in love and living happily ever after was a fantasy. Ginny, that's what this is. That's what's it been from the start! Why didn't I see it before?" Hermione knelt before Ginny, grabbing her hands and squeezing them briefly. "This is nothing but a fairytale. Dean's not right for you. He's not theone. Someone else is…"

She understood what her bushy-haired friend was thinking almost immediately, and Ginny shook her head frantically.

_**Don't, Hermione.**_

But Hermione ignored her. "You don't love Dean, do you?" she whispered, her question more of a statement. "You love Harry."

Ginny could only stare at her, stricken.

Hermione was smiling. "He's the one. He's your true love," she said, leaning over to grip her by the shoulders. "It's Harry. It's _always_ been Harry. He can break the curse."

_** No!**_

__Hermione got up and started towards the kitchen, but Ginny grabbed her before she was out of reach and desperately pulled her back.

_**Don't you dare, Hermione! You can't tell him. I'm begging you. Please. **_

__"But, Ginny—"

The fireplace in the kitchen flared to life again. Dean must've finally gone.

The door to the kitchen opened a second later and Harry, followed by Ron and Remus, rushed into the room.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, his voice very low.

She was trembling as she clutched Hermione's hand tightly.

The room was deathly quiet, then Hermione said stiffly, "No. It didn't."

Remus clapped Harry hard on the back and said, just loud enough for Ginny to hear, "What did I tell you?"

Harry paced the length of Ron's bedroom in two long strides. Back and forth he went, getting dizzier by the minute.

He'd been thinking about Ginny for hours now, ever since his spontaneous excursion to the pond with her. He _still_ could not get over how bold he'd been towards her. It had to have been something in her warm brown eyes that had him intoxicated. Or maybe it was the coy smile she'd thrown at him over her shoulder, or even the softness of her waist beneath his fingertips, or the swell of her-

_She's Ron's sister. She's Ron's sister, _he thought hastily, dispelling the image of Ginny that his mind had unwittingly conjured.

His attempt to keep her out of his head was proving tremendously futile.

But he could not stop wondering if he could fix her, _save _her.

And it was crystal clear, what he had to do…

Ron and Hermione watched him, more silent than he'd like for them to be. But what would they tell him? What could they possibly say to make him feel better?

"Look, if you think, even for a moment, that it could be you…" Ron started.

Harry let out a strangled sort of laugh. "Are you giving me permission to kiss your sister?" he asked brusquely.

Ron shrugged, countenance only slightly pinched in disgust. "Well, yeah, if it'll save her life."

If Ginny ever found out Ron was giving _anyone _permission to kiss her, he'd be seeing nothing but bat bogeys for weeks.

"What if it's not me?" Harry said.

"If it's not you, then you can say you did everything you could've," Hermione said quietly.

"And what if it _is_ me?" he asked, the ice-cold fingers of dread creeping up his spine. "If Voldemort finds out—"

"Don't do this, Harry," Hermione protested.

"What ifs aren't going to make you anything but mad, mate," Ron said emphatically.

Conflicted, Harry fell back into his cot and stared at the ceiling.

"If it's me, and he finds out, and he hurts her…" Harry continued, his voice inexplicably shaking.

Ron and Hermione did not interject this time, knowing well that they would only set him off.

This curse Ginny was under, and the circumstances surrounding it, was making his head spin in a vortex of misery. If he was the one, the _only _one, who could break her from the curse, he would be putting Ginny in grave danger, maybe even directly in Voldemort's path, and that was something he would never forgive himself for. But if he did not act, and soon, she was as good as dead…

"I've got to give it a go, haven't I?" Harry concluded.

Ron blew out a relieved breath.

"Do you think it could be you?" Hermione asked softly.

He shrugged as casually as he could manage, trying not to give away exactly how he felt at the thought.

"Blimey," Ron said, seeing right through him. "You _like _her."

What Harry felt towards Ginny was very new and somewhat surreal, but it was also oddly natural. It was nothing that had been forced upon him, the feelings were just there, as if they'd been lying dormant until the utmost opportune moment to reveal themselves. He could only assume, had such a dire situation not arisen, that his feelings for her would have remained hidden deep within himself, and maybe even _from_ himself, for months, perhaps even years.

He did not wish to think of the possibility.

_~* __**Day 4**__ *~_

_July 16__th__, 1996_

The sound of running water had Ginny blearily opening her eyes and glancing over at the clock on the mantle.

5:07 AM.

_Bugger_.

She yawned and stretched jerkily, sloshing water from her bath all over the floor. After it disappeared seconds later, thanks to the clever charm her father had placed on the entire ground floor of The Burrow, Ginny carefully hauled herself on to the edge of the tub and reached for the towel hanging over the handle of her wheelchair.

Sleepily, she dried herself off and eased into her chair, flicking her tail over the tub to remove any excess water. She then tugged on a lose shirt, partly for warmth but mostly to conceal the rather unsupportive swim top she was wearing. Tonks had left it to her for her convenience, and Ginny didn't want her mum to see it in her possession, let alone _on _her. It was extremely revealing, even for her standards, but it came in handy when one's bed was a bathtub.

She proceeded to the kitchen, intending to assist her mother with breakfast today.

But Ginny did not find her in the kitchen. Instead she found Harry, looking exhausted, as if he hadn't slept a wink. Curiously, he was pouring two cups of tea.

"Good m-morning," he said through a yawn. "Three sugars and a dash of milk, yeah?"

She bit her lip and tried to suppress a grin that threatened to bloom across her face. (He knew how she took her tea!) Before she lost her nerve, she reached over for his cup, added two sugars and topped it with milk. He seemed only mildly surprised that she knew how he took his.

They traded cups and sipped the drinks together silently.

"I couldn't sleep," he said after a moment.

He was looking at her in a way that made her feel, strangely enough, faultless.

She spread her hands towards him in bewilderment, trying not to flush at the reaction he'd brought forth within her.

"Why?" he deciphered easily.

Ginny nodded.

He shrugged, tilting his head just so as he continued to look at her. "I've got a lot on my mind." He got up from his seat, threw back his tea as if it were liquid courage, and said, "Come fly with me?"

Her face must've said it all because he came around and pushed her outside with an air of satisfaction, where the sky was clear and open before them and the wind whipped at their hair and clothes like pennants.

The spokes of her wheelchair unraveled to carry her down the steps, and Harry parked her just by the railing.

"Wait here," he said, hurrying off to the broom shed.

He emerged from the darkness a minute later with just his Firebolt. Ginny stared at him as he mounted it and hovered low and close enough for her to grab the handle and slide on.

His smirk had her eyeing him suspiciously.

"What? Don't you trust me?"

He held out his hand, his eyes glinting mysteriously at her, the intrigue within them strong enough that she placed her hand in his, knowing very much that she would enjoy the ride…

After several attempts to get comfortable riding sidesaddle, something she hadn't done since she was eight or nine, Ginny finally settled in, pressed very closely against Harry.

"You've never ridden my broom, have you?" Harry said, taking them up slowly.

She shook her head, thankful for the night still surrounding them. The heat that quickly rose to her cheeks was _not_ welcomed.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his breath on her neck making her shudder.

She nodded, but took the hand he'd wrapped loosely around her stomach and pulled it securely against her. He laughed, pressed his chest firmly against her back, and shot off into the approaching dawn.

She could've sworn that they were lightning.


End file.
